I once read that every warrior hoped an honorable death
would find him. I always went looking for mine, but not even the Reaper wanted
me.

I was trained to kill. I was trained to not ask why. To take
orders and just march in line. Hooah motherfucker.

Life or death.

Ride or die.

And I’m not only talking about the military. I’m talking
about the life that led me on the road to nowhere.

My life.

I fought for my brothers.

I fought for my family.

I fought for my country.

And I fought for her…

Never realizing I might die for them too.

Mia Ryder.

Mia fuckin’ Ryder.

I sat at the train tracks. Desperately trying not to think
about her, but it was easier said than done. She came into my life like a
fucking hurricane, destroying everything in her path. A girl from the right
side of the tracks, which for some reason I couldn’t ever fucking fathom.

Falling for a man like me.

I had made mistakes, too many to fucking count, but life
didn’t give you a do-over. All that was left for me to do was to accept them,
even fucking embrace them. They became a part of me, as much as every tattoo
that covered my body. Every one of them meant something to me. They were my
battle scars. Far worse than the ones I got in war. In the eyes of others, they
were just colorful, intricate art.

But to me...

They were my solace and my pain.

Nothing had changed since the last time I fucking lived in
this godforsaken town. No welcome home party from family or friends, no thanks
or parades from the town residents for serving our country.

Nothing.

Not one fucking thing.

Everything I had done, I had done for my family, for the MC,
for her…

I fought for my fucking brothers.

I fought for my goddamn country.

I fought for my girl.

Never realizing…

I might fucking die for them too.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that fucking shit. I
once read that every warrior hoped a good death would find him. I always went
looking for mine, but not even the Reaper wanted me. I thought fighting for
something I believed in would make me a good man.

In the end, it never mattered. I would always be on the
wrong side of the tracks, and they would always lead me to the wrong station.
Changing my people, places, and things throughout the years didn’t help change
the outcome of the choices I’d made. Of the things I’d done.